


Peter Parker, Sexter Extraordinaire

by Sparcina



Series: Iron Webs to Covet [6]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Sexting, Age Difference, Coming In Pants, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Experienced Tony, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, PWP, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter is 18, Rough Kissing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, eager peter, fantasies, self fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: Apparently, sexting Mr. Stark by accident is a thing Peter does now. While touching himself. And Tony... Well, he probably shouldn't fantasize about Peter, but the kid's just too damn attractive and brilliant for his own good.





	1. Oops! I Did It Once

This evening had started like many others since Peter had proved the validity of [Jerking Off + Fantasies of Mr. Stark = Lower Stress Levels]: alone in his bedroom, touching himself to fantasies of his mentor.

"Mister- God, Mister Stark..." He threw his head back and thumbed the tip of his cock. 

Climaxing would be a relief. Between his schoolwork, his too-frequent patrols and other adrenaline-driven adventures as Spiderman and his training with the other Avengers, he was lucky if he got eight hours of sleep in three days. As if that kind of schedule wasn't enough to drive any eighteen-year-old to a premature burnout, he also had a very healthy libido, which was... unfortunate. His spidey senses, as he'd discovered very early with keen disappointment, kept him from blocking off the surrounding noises and scents, which in turn made it challenging to achieve orgasm. And god, did he ever need that orgasm today...

His acknowledgement (to himself, and only to himself) that Mr. Stark played a vital role in his fantasies had been both his salvation and his one-way ticket to hell. Really, the older man had but to brush his shoulder, smile that crooked smile of his or ask Peter to assist him in an experiment for him to add to his mental catalog of wanking material. Peter had always admired Mr. Stark for his intelligence and dedication, but it was the realization that the man was handsome and seductive (on top of being exactly his type) that had pushed him over the edge many months ago.

Of course, now that he was aware of the effect a simple smile had on him, Peter spent most of his time avoiding any kind of physical contact Mr. Stark. They still worked well together, trained together like they were two halves of the same person, but it was a constant challenge to keep his cool and not simply spread his legs and beg for Mr. Stark’s cock. It didn’t help that most of his fantasies involved him being fucked hard either on the training mat or on one of the worktables. He was fingering himself so often that they probably wouldn't need lube by this point. 

"P-Please..."

If Mr. Stark noticed all those blushes, he didn’t remark on them, and Peter liked him even more for that small mercy. And the fact that he liked, _liked_ him, was why he was currently standing with his back to his bedroom door, pants pooling at his ankles, a hand on his balls, caressing and teasing, as his cock swelled to full hardness between his trembling thighs. His other hand was busy with his phone, which served both to distract himself from the surrounding noises and scents, but also to stimulate himself further. A few weeks ago, he’d created an imaginary phone contact which he’d labelled (quite predictably) **Tony**. A little tinkering had made it possible for him to write both as himself and as **Tony** , which might be a tad pathetic, but his eager body sure liked the imaginary exchanges.

The first time he’d spilled himself all over the screen (accidentally, of course) had been the enactment of a tradition. It had taken Peter a couple of days to admit to himself that he couldn’t help it because he owned a Starkphone, and another few days to recover from seeing Mr. Stark handling that very phone with those clever, calloused fingers, unaware that Peter covered it in cum daily (and washed it afterwards, because there were limits to even _his_ depravity).

He put his hand back on his cock, pulling hard and fast. God, he needed that man like he needed oxygen.

 **Tony** _:_ Are you touching yourself?

 _Me:_ I am now.

 **Tony** : I wish I wasn’t stuck in that board meeting. Perhaps I could excuse myself for fifteen minutes and fly over to give you what you need. Wouldn’t you like that, baby?

 _Me_ : Please, Mr. Stark.

"Please, please, I n-need you, need to come..."

Peter gathered the precum leaking at his slit and caressed his glans, his ass clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

 _Me:_ Do you want me to suck you first? I miss your cock so much. Want you in my mouth, want you so much.

 **Tony** : I believe I could accommodate you, if you let me lick your ass afterwards.

Balls tightening and cock leaking heavily, Peter started to pant. He was close; it was always over awfully fast whenever he let himself pretend that Mr. Stark wanted him just as much as _he_ wanted _him_.

 _Me:_ I’d do everything you want. Let me be a good boy for you, Mr. Stark.

 **TS** : I’m leaving that soporific meeting now, want me to stop by your favorite restaurant?

Peter mewled as the tip of his index finger got past the tight ring of muscles. It sank to the last knuckle easily, and was soon joined by another. Licking his lips and wishing he could convince Mr. Stark that he was a quick study worth his time in a bedroom, too, he reread the last message. Mr. Stark would come for him, yes. He would want to make good on his promise and fuck him into the squeaky mattress of his single bed. If Peter asked nicely, perhaps he would be allowed to suck his calloused fingers while the older man pounded into him, crooning obscenities in his ear, slapping his ass and-

 _Me:_ The only thing I want to eat right now is your cum, Mr. Stark. I’m up to two fingers now. Burns a bit, but I like it. I know you’re so much bigger, so you would take your time prepping me, won’t you? Just a bit? After I sucked you off to make you feel better for attending that boring meeting, of course. Should I put the plug in while I wait for you?

He let a soft moan as he sent the message.

Then three things happened simultaneously:

1) He realized that the last text addressed to him came from the real Mr. Stark, which he would have realized had he not been so caught up in his little fantasy;

2) He wondered if shame was an acceptable cause of death, and if his Aunt would write it on his tombstone to punish him for leaving her so soon;

3) His cock jerked one last time at the thought that Mr. Stark, the real Mr. Stark, got to know how much Peter wanted him, and then he came, biting his lower lip and tasting blood as the world around him exploded in a curtain of stars.

“Fuck.”

His knees wobbled. Hand still gripping the phone, which he hadn’t painted white for a change, he let himself sink to the ground.

“Fuck.”

He reread his last message. Yep, he was certainly going to die of embarrassment. And shame. And arousal.

The phone broke in his hand. Peter gasped as shards of metal penetrated the skin of his palm. With a whine, he brought his hand to his mouth, licking the blood as his heart started another round of somersaults. He was _so_ screwed. His sex life was over. Every time he would try and touch himself from now on, he would have Mr. Stark’s disappointed, uneasy expression stamped all over his usual fantasies, as it very well should. How could Mr. Stark ever want a scrawny eighteen-year-old like him? He could have literally anyone in the world; he certainly wouldn't settle for a witty boy who wanted nothing more than to serve himself on a silver plater (and rock his world).

Peter wiped his cum-coated wrist on his shirt and kicked off his pants. Would time accept to run backwards just this once, if he pinched himself hard enough?

“Fuck.”

Yep, that pretty much summed it up.


	2. Once Sexted, Twice as Horny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank **emeraldine087** for their burrito contribution, and all of you lovely readers who have insisted for a second chapter.

This meeting was a fucking waste of his very precious time, like every board meeting of SI had been, was, and would ever be. He would have to work something out with his girl lest he suddenly died of boredom. How embarrassing that would be, after a lifetime of pushing back the frontiers of science and inventing new ways to have fun... 

Speaking of fun… Tony’s moral compass had never exactly pointed towards Virtue, but he was trying to do the right thing, which meant being a friend and mentor to Peter, and not bending him over his worktable and fuck the daylights out of him. Oh, he knew that the kid wanted him. He’d lived too long not to recognize that hungry look in those dreamy eyes, not to see those blushes for what they truly were.

He should stop playing with fire, he really should. But the kid was just so addictive, both in brains and looks. Tony had never been one to deny his own ego, and to see Peter squirm every time Tony dared touch his shoulder, or invaded his personal space to watch the screen of his computer (or so he pretended anyway)… Tony licked his lips. He had no clue what the meeting was about at this point and he couldn’t care less.

At least the effect was mutual, if the kid’s clumsy attempts to hide the fact he’d just jerked off in one of _the Tower's_ bathrooms was anything to go by. Tony should probably not make a point of masturbating in those bathrooms in turn, and he definitely shouldn’t watch the safety feed on those cameras, but he was just a man.

And Peter was simply irresistible.

Under the table, not exactly inconspicuous but who cared, he was the boss here, he answered the kid’s earlier text about his day.

 **TNT** : How are you today, Mr. Stark? Do you need help with any of your projects?

The kid was really sweet… which made it all the more difficult for Tony to resist getting him naked into his bed and kiss that sweet mouth, before fucking that pink (virginal?) ass with his tongue, until the kid was sobbing and begging to be taken properly. How delighted Tony would be to oblige.

Somehow, he pictured Peter a master at begging, just because he would know that it pushed all of Tony’s buttons. 

 _Me:_ I wish I would. I’m stuck in a meeting and I’m thinking about cloning myself, but thanks for asking.

*

The meeting didn’t kill him, but it was a close call. Dropping his empty cup of coffee into a trash bin and wishing instantly for another, he crossed the street (on the red light, because he liked to live dangerously) and picked up a baseball ball that threatened to roll into that same street and drag a kid along with it.

“Friday, please create a folder for a new project.”

“What should it be about, boss?”

Tony threw the ball at the eight-year-old and shrugged. “CSI: Clone Saving Intervention. I want one in my image, for all that administrative bullshit.”

Friday laughed. “I don’t think Ms. Potts is going to be fooled, boss.”

“I will plead depression, then. Do I look depressed to you?”

“You ‘look’ like you want to do very bad things, if I may say so.”

“That’s because I granted you intelligence, darling girl.”

“Be careful, boss.”

Tony slammed the door of his car shut and put on his sunglasses. “I’m always careful not to be caught. Please send the following text to my boy: I’m leaving that soporific meeting now comma want me to stop by your favorite restaurant interrogation mark.”

“Done, boss. May I speak freely?”

“You know you can tell me everything,” Tony replied casually, pushing the door of the Mexican restaurant open. “Hi there, I’ll take a double order of number five.”

“Immediately, Mr. Stark,” replied the tanned man behind the counter. “To go?”

“Always.” Tony pulled at his goatee. “So, girl, what’s on your busy mind?”

“You realize that he will become impossible if you keep spoiling him like that.”

“Oh, Friday.” Tony grinned at the blond waitress cleaning up the tables. A while ago, he might have suggested a quickie in the bathroom, but he was apparently Peter-sexual these days. “That kid deserves the best, and one day, I will end up wasting him for anybody else.”

Peter’s lack of reply didn’t worry him. The kid was busy, just like he was, and he could be doing any number of things at the moment. Still, Tony would stop by his aunt’s apartment, flirt with her a little just to make sure she didn’t try and kill him if (when) she learnt about his intentions, and leave all the food there if the kid wasn’t home.

“Here you go, Mr. Stark.”

Tony grabbed the two huge burritos the employee was handing him, paid for the order, and was on his way out of the restaurant when Friday alerted him to a text.

“Who’s gonna be happy about my little stop at his favorite restau-”

Tony froze.

“Boss, if I may-”

“You may _not_. Mute, unless you’ve got the video feed that goes with that beautiful text, girl.”

Friday stayed silent. Tony wasn’t aware of anything else around him anymore. A bomb could have exploded, the sky could have fallen, hell, Dr. Strange could be sucking his cock that he would not have batted an eye.

He read the text again. And again. And _again._

 **TNT** : The only thing I want to eat right now is your cum, Mr. Stark. I’m up to two fingers now. Burns a bit, but I like it. I know you’re so much bigger, so you would take your time prepping me, won’t you? Just a little? After I sucked you off to make you feel better for attending that boring meeting, of course. Should I put the plug in while I wait for you?

Well, Tony thought, that text was _way_ better than an answer to his original question. He had no clue how he became so lucky today, but he was going to find himself a bathroom ASAP and jerk off to the thought of Peter fantasizing about him in such vivid details.

“You naughty boy…”

No sooner had he locked himself up in the dirty, smelly bathroom of the restaurant than he selected Peter’s number on speed dial. Of course the kid was on speed dial. How many times had he considered calling Peter just to hear his cute voice as he masturbated? Peter was a cunning kid, and had senses that far surpassed Tony’s limited human ones. Would he have heard him touch his dick, would he have picked up on his fast breathing? Would he have become hard himself at the thought that Tony was calling him while masturbating? The idea itself had often been enough to bring Tony to the edge.

“Pick up, kid,” he moaned. A shiver ran through him as his cock sprang free from the confines of his pants. Fuck, but he was hard. If Peter had been here right now, there was nothing in the universe (beside Peter’s refusal, but he didn’t think it was a possibility, not after he’d sent him such detailed instructions to his fantasies) that could keep him from setting him on the edge of the counter and split him open on his cock.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...

“You want to eat my cum, baby?” he panted at his reflection, picturing Peter’s flushed face and throbbing cock in the mirror. That kid was going to be his undoing for sure. “God, I’ll let you. I’ll stuff your pretty mouth any time you want.” His thumb ran over his slit, smearing precum all over his glans. He tasted blood in his mouth.

The kid wasn’t picking up, so he hung up and tried again. He hadn't been that horny in... ever.

“Two fingers’ good, two fingers’ pretty good, and I love how you’re so impatient for my cock that you have to fill your ass while you wait for me. Have you waited long for my cock, baby? You want it bad, don’t you?” God, he could see it only too well: Peter crying out to be fucked, blushing so prettily as he spread out his ass cheeks, exposing a pink, wet hole clenching and unclenching in anticipation. “Don’t- Don’t put the plug in, kid. Feel my fingers instead. Like it? God, you feel so good, such a _fuck_ \- such a tight fit...” His hand flew over his cock, pulling and twisting as he pretended it was Peter’s ass tightening around him. 

Peter still wasn’t answering. Trapping his phone between the wall and his back, Tony looked down at the two burritos trapped in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his cock.

White sauce was trickling down the sides, coating his wrist. Tony knew firsthand how delicious Peter sounded when he ate a burrito; how much better would it be to hear him scream his name in ecstasy?With a little imagination (and Tony had plenty), he could even pretend that the thick, creamy, sauce was Peter’s cum.

He sucked in a finger. _Delicious._ He was sure Peter's cum would taste even better.

With a loud moan, Tony threw his head back and climaxed violently, spraying his other wrist with cum. One third dazzled, two-thirds giddy, he chuckled at his blissed-out reflection.

“Friday?”

“Yes, boss?”

If anything, his AI sounded… exasperated. Tony wiped his wrist on his shirt (already white anyway), licked some more sauce leaking out of one of the burritos and hummed approvingly. He was starting to understand the kid's fixation with Mexican food.

“Do you think the kid could have sexted me by accident?”

“There’s only one way to find out, I suppose.”

Tony grinned as he sent the next text.

 _Me_ : Whatever you want to eat, I’m coming for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll let you-all guess what TNT means.


	3. Hard Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I've decided to write another for this story. It's relatively angst-free, and 95% smut, so it's basically a comfort blanket in-between my other Starker fics.

“What’s going on behind that door, darling girl?”

“I believe he’s crying in his bedroom,” Friday replied, and she sounded about ten shades of disapproving.

Tony would have slapped himself into oblivion if such a feat was possible. He really would.

The taste of the sauce he’d licked in the bathroom was now sour on his tongue. He gripped the remaining burrito tighter. He’d done too many things wrong in his forty-eight years of life not to do his best to make this one right.

He knocked again on May’s apartment door. There was no answer, just like the previous twelve times.

“He sent me that text message,” he reflected aloud, so that Friday could share his little moment of panic if she felt so inclined. “Mistake or not mistake, there was my fucking name in it… and a bunch of other things, but that’s not the point. I mean, the kid wouldn’t make a joke of this, especially not if the result is him crying right now.” He cringed. He _hated_ it when Peter wasn’t 100% happy. Guilt led way to concern, and something that could be considered determination. “Any idea what I should do right now, girl?”

“I would suggest you apologize, but that would require him to come to the door first,” his AI replied without missing a beat.

Tony rested his brow against the wooden door and sighed. White sauce trickled down his wrist, but he ignored it. Peter must know he was him. With his heightened sense, the kid felt everything to a degree Tony could only imagine, and _no,_ he wasn’t going to think about how those senses changed his sexual experience, not at all.

“I can kick this one down,” he said at last, glaring at the door.

Friday sighed. “Not every problem is a nail you can fix with a hammer.”

“I’m not _Thor_ ; stop using my own jokes against me.”

He kicked the door down just like he’d said. It took but one hit. Guilt was a momentary guest in Tony’s mind that got greeted and then promptly dismissed. He would buy May a better door. Fuck, he would buy her a whole apartment complex if only he could convince Peter that all was fine.

And perhaps get an explanation for that whole sexting (sex thing?) in the first place.

He found Peter exactly like Friday had said: crying his heart out. Tony’s own heart broke. He might not have one as pure as the kid, and said heart might not have welcomed in many people, but Peter had claimed a huge chunk of it from the day Tony decided that [Cunning Eighteen-year-old Biology Genius + Pretty as Fuck = Perfect = Want].

And now that chunk got pierced, cut, sliced to ribbons, and also thrown in the blender on the highest setting as Tony saw the kid lift his head and ducked it in the same second. And then Peter started to cry harder, his sobs interspersed with what sounded suspiciously like apologies.

“Oh, kid…”

Tony set the burrito on the nearby desk and crossed the room, bridging that unbearable distance between them, and sank to his knees. He lifted a hand to touch the kid’s face, but then thought better of it. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done _wrong_ , but he’d so clearly messed up it wasn’t even funny.

He opened his mouth, closed it again. For all his impressive IQ, he couldn’t seem to come up with anything that could help. He’d always sucked at comforting people (Friday was presently reminding him of that fact in his ear, in-between two suggestions to broach the subject that needed to be addressed _pronto_ ), and Peter was not just anybody.

Peter was everything to him.  

He cleared his throat. “The only reason I’ve put any effort into resisting the temptation that you are is because I didn’t want to make things awkward between us, in case you didn’t feel the same way I did- do, do, I still do, I mean, feel a great deal for you, but hey, things are now awkward anyway, because of my big mouth and that text I’ve sent you, and yeah, a five-year-old with at least a few neurons firing would understand the innuendos in that message, so I guess I should apologi-”

Tony didn’t get to finish that sentence. Under normal circumstances, he hated when someone interrupted him, because pretty much everything that came out of his mouth was brilliant (except when it was pure, organic, made in USA bullshit), but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care at all, because Peter had shut him up with a kiss.

Peter pulled him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him so hard Tony heard their teeth clatter, but again, how was he supposed to give even a tenth of a fuck when the kid was so obviously enthusiastic, and desperate in his passion? This person who’d figured in his dreams for what felt like an eternity… This person was kissing him with all he was worth, roughly and messy with all the eagerness and inexperience of youth.

Fuck, the things Tony wanted to do to him… The experience he would enjoy using to make sure the kid had the best lay of his life (repeatedly)… He wanted more of those strangled sounds, wanted to hear him beg. The kid could ask him for practically anything; Tony would give it to him. He already wanted to serve him the world on a silver plater.

“Let me take care of you,” he purred once they parted for air, a trail of saliva still linking their lips. He wanted to do everything he’d promised Imaginary Peter in that public bathroom, except better, _much_ better.

Peter’s pupils were blown, and his cheeks flushed. Tony branded that picture in his memory for later me-time.

“Ok.” The kid sounded hesitant, but there was nothing hesitant about the way he straddled Tony and wound his arms in his back, basically pressing every inch of his feverish eighteen-year-old to every inch of Tony’s all too eager forty-eight-year-old body. “P-Please.”

“Of course, baby.” Tony picked him up and scrambled to his feet, kissing his tears away as he did. “You meant what you said in that message, right?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You still sad?”

“No.” A smile bloomed on Peter’s face. “I’m so happy you’re here, Mister- Mister Stark.”  
The kid should really call him Tony if they were going to get any more intimate, but Tony suspected there was a kink there, and he would lie if he said that having Peter call him ‘Mister Stark’ while they were making out wasn’t doing it for him. He was so hard it actually hurt.

“Is there anything you want to tell me before- You want me to kiss you ag-”

Peter shut him up with a kiss again. Tony was beginning to suspect that the kid was the exception to his usual rule (probably rule _s,_ plural).

He swirled around with Peter in his arms and headed to the closest wall to rest part of the kid’s weight against it. Peter parted his lips with a low moan, welcoming the hot tongue Tony thrust inside. Such eagerness was definitely one of his most attractive features… just as his wonderful brain… and the way he cared for people he knew, and those he didn’t… and that beautiful, lithe body he was currently mapping with his hands, wondering at the naked skins bare millimeters under his fingertips…

He felt like he was seventeen again. Incidentally, he also felt like the luckiest sugar daddy in the known ’verse, which was just fine with him, since his sugar baby was squirming in his arms with pleased little noises that Tony swallowed all too eagerly. If temptation hadn’t existed before, Peter would have invented it.

“Mi-Mister Stark…”

Peter slid his tongue alongside Tony’s, exploring new possibilities, and Tony let him take over the kiss while he felt all the muscles shifting in the kid’s thighs and back. Fuck, the kid was so fit. Tony wanted to lick all those ridges and curves, all those hard lines and sensitive spots he couldn’t wait to map.

Even knowing about Spiderman’s strength, Tony was still caught completely by surprise when Peter pulled away just enough to get back on his feet, squirmed some more against the wall, and then proceeded to crowd Tony into the wall. The kid picked up the kiss where he’d left it, sucking tentatively on Tony’s tongue, and Tony, well…

Tony usually hated being manhandled outside and during sex. It reminded him too much of Afghanistan, and all the other narrow, small places he’d been put when some dimwits took it upon themselves to kidnap him. He hated the lack of control.

But Peter wasn’t holding him there; he just touched him, drank at his lips like a man who hadn’t seen water in days, and then mouthed at Tony’s neck. He was also rutting against Tony’s thigh, his very erect cock a line of fire going straight to Tony’s groin.

Goosebumps exploded all over Tony’s body.

“Is that- Is that ok?” Peter gasped. With one hand, he caressed the inside of Tony’s right wrist. “Can I- What can I do- What do you… god… want-”

The fire in Tony’s loins grew and grew until he thought he would just combust right here and there and Peter’s bedroom. He growled.

“How about you tell me what prompted that sweet text of yours, beautiful? It was very lovely, but-”

“But?” Peter sounded worried.

Tony didn’t want him to sound anything but blissed out of his mind. Because of Tony.

“Did you mean to send that text? I mean, there was my name on it, but I have a feeling that there’s more to it…”

Peter’s hips stuttered to a stop. “I… I was texting myself?” The blush on his cheeks darkened.

Tony cupped his face and kissed him, thoroughly and sensuously, using every trick of the trade he’d learned in almost four decades to get Peter back where he wanted him.

Pleased. Happy. Wanton.

Then he pulled back and grinned. “Really?” he crooned, thumb caressing the kid’s cheek. “Were you really having a conversation with yourself, picturing me as the other party?”

“I…” Peter’s throat bobbed.

Tony told his cock to stop forcing him into wanting to feel said throat around it. Firmly. “You wanted me to tell you those things. To talk dirty to you, to make you hungry and desperate with words. _My_ words.” When Peter shuddered violently, Tony leaned into his space further, mouthing at his earlobe. Fuck, that kid was so desirable.

And so very naughty.

“You’ll definitely show me those conversations later, won’t you?”

Peter shook his head. “It’s… embarrassing.”

Tony went on caressing the kid’s jaw. He could spend hours touching his face and neck, just breathing in his scent, listening to the soft moans he couldn’t quite hold back.

“You want to know what’s truly embarrassing, kid? Me, in your favorite restaurant’s bathroom, after I’ve picked up those burritos you’re so fond of.”

He recounted what he’d done then, and saw Peter’s eyes widened, felt that hard cock throb against his thigh, and by the end of his little tale, the kid was rutting against his thigh again, but faster than before, nails digging into Tony’s sides like he needed the support.

“So pretty… You’re so pretty like this, seeking your release, _using me_ -”

Peter cried out. Tony bit over his pulse point, hard, and the kid jerked once, twice more. Tony felt a fresh rush of pleasure at the sensation of Peter’s wet, seed-coated pants against his own twitching erection.

“Oh god.” Peter was panting, hands shaking on Tony’s hips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“That was so hot, baby.” Tony chuckled gently at the perplexed look on Peter’s face. “You have no idea how much that turns me on. Let me?”

He sank to his knees to illustrate his purpose. When he lifted his eyes to look at the kid, he was met with a hungry look that matched the want boiling in his veins. In one practised flick of the wrist, he opened the kid’s pants and sucked the head of his softening cock into his mouth, mouthing at the wetness gathered on the glans with raw greed. He hummed in delight at the bittersweet taste filling his mouth.

“You’ll get hard again in no time,” he promised the kid, who still looked slightly ashamed. “And now I’m going to suck you properly, unless you’d rather I didn’t… or did something else?”

“N-No, I’m good, this is- god, Tony…”

Tony had taken him down in one go, cheeks hollowed out and jaw relaxed so that Peter’s cock had ample space to swell. He took one of the kid’s hands and put it in his hair.

He was going to blow the kid’s mind, and then he was going to make sure that no one else got to see the kid like that.

Head thrown back, lips parted on a throaty moan.

One hand in Tony’s hair, the other against the wall, supporting himself as his thighs quivered.

Rocking his hips in slow motion, _savoring_ Tony’s mouth on him... and then, surrendering entirely, painting Tony's mouth and throat with hot cum just as sweet as the kid's lips on his afterwards.

Tony was _so_ keeping this one for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January 2019: This story is complete at 3 chapters. There might be extra smutty chapters at some point, but Sexter's still all wrapped up in its current state :) Thank you for all the love!

**Author's Note:**

> For more erroneous sexting (in the [Frostiron fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404927)).


End file.
